


Pieces of You.

by Lauren_is_a_moron



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boy Band, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Dan is in a band who meet an unfortunate fate, Dan's band-mates are pure, Ghosts, Like the game Oxenfree, M/M, Murder, Phil is angsty teen#1, radio's
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9464912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauren_is_a_moron/pseuds/Lauren_is_a_moron
Summary: : It was supposed to be a camping trip with a few friends, but after repeatedly seeing something and then rather someone haunting his vision, Phil Lester takes it upon himself to try out a so-called legend of the island he has lived on his entire life“They say, if you go into the caves near the farthest shore and play around with a radio, apparently, you can tune into frequencies which don’t exist.”And that’s when he discovers something better left alone. The voice of a boy. The voice of a dead boy, and what comes with the boy is the tragic story of how he died, and a gateway through time.  Phil can’t resist. If you had the ability to stop something terrible from happening, would you try and change it?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like??? It's really dark but lmao dark is my thing mwahaha

_vaguely based on the game Oxenfree. (also bits of Life is Strange?)  
_

 -

The warm glow of the campfire lit up PJ’s face in an adjacent light as his lips curved into a playful smile. He held his phone under his chin, using its beam as a torchlight as it cast shadows across his face. His tousled brown hair was a mess in his in the dim light, but he still managed to look acceptable. If I didn’t straighten my fringe every-day, I’d look scruffy.

 “Who wants to tell scary stories?” he raises his voice just enough to quieten the murmur of excitement around the fire.

 PJ’s words snap me out of it, and I look up, a small smile playing on my lips. No doubt stories were going to start flying around about the island’s so-called myths and legends. They were my favourite to hear. To think the island of Astral, just off the coast of Devon, had its dark history. I’d lived here my entire life. Both of my parents were originally born in the UK, but moved here after wanting to get away from the city- away from, well… everything. So, I’ve had the comfort of Astral all my life. It was so quiet here. The population only reached 100,000 every year. Since the island was so small, everyone knows each other’s business and the kids grow up with each other. I’d known the kids surrounding me around the fire right now, since I’d started riding a bike.

 There were no real complaints here. Except, maybe the internet. The connection was so bad I could only check social networking for an hour each day, and then it would cut off. Though since growing up with no real technology since my parent’s fear ‘that brainwashing hunk of junk’ better known as a TV, I was free to grow up innocent, spending most of my time on the beach with the other island kids, or at the rope-swing. We used to spend every summer here, sitting by the fire on a warm August night. But this was the last year. Most of us had already hit eighteen, and we had to start thinking of our future. We couldn’t stay on this island forever.

 I stare into the fire, allowing myself to completely lose myself in the flames, in the bright oranges and yellows sputtering in the steady breeze. The warmth is a relief after spending an hour freezing my ass off trying to build a tent. I’ll add _tent making_ to the list of activities I completely fail at. I wrap my arms around my knees, fighting a shiver, and inching closer to the warmth of the fire.

 “Anyone?” PJ blows curls of scruffy brown hair out of his eyes and smirked suggestively at the group around us. There were ten of us. Five of them being our _actual_ group from college, and the rest were random people who others had brought along. I glance around the circle. Officially, the ones I recognise, kids I had known since as early as primary school, are PJ, of course, Chris Kendall, the joker of the group, Louise and Dodie, the girl’s. And Felix, our most recent recruit to our strange club. He moved from Sweden last year and was the funniest guy I knew.

 “We could share Creepy pasta?” Felix, an older boy originally from Sweden, speaks up. He sits next to PJ, and nudges him with his shoulder.

 When I say ‘strange club’ I mean Astral College’s smallest class yet, the film and media course. Which was us five, and a few others who barely even came. I’d known PJ and Chris from childhood and met Louise and Dodie in class. Felix was automatically invited to join when he mentioned he was starting his own YouTube channel which focused on gaming.  

 “Hey, Phil, did you bring the radio?” PJ asks me, leaning over to grab a beer. He cracks it open, breaking the seal. It hisses, frothing as he raises the can to his lips and slurps loudly. I nod, picking the little portable radio I brought from home. PJ told me I should bring it and I have no idea why. “Yeah.” I hold it up, waving it so he could see it. His eyes light up excitedly. “What’s it for? If I might ask?” I frown at him expectantly but he just grins at me, proceeding to once again illuminate his face with his torchlight, pulling a face. “Did you guys know Astral Cave-“he refers to the name of the beach we’re on- “Is haunted?”

 Astral Cave- a beach in the middle of nowhere, a half hour walk from any kind of civilisation- It was funny, I always got carsick on the way here as a kid, as there’s just a twist of roads streaming together surrounded by high banks dotted with sheep. And on top of the banks are hedges – I used to count them as a kid, in the car. Most of the time it was to avoid thinking about mu churning stomach. It was like a roller-coaster ride, especially at night used to say it was ‘magical’ as we wove past twinkling street lights illuminating the patch of road in front of us- seemingly going on forever.

Astral cave is _ours_. That’s what I liked to think. Our strange, magical patch of land we had adopted as our own. I’d even carved my name in the stone of the caves sitting rugged near the shallows.

We all took a bus up here- the bunch of us, sat in a huge group, scattered around the bus. I tried to ignore the tuts and rolling-of-the-eyes of OAP’s.

 There’s a soft murmur of _yes_ and _of course_ and I brace myself for the story PJ has told me ever since I was a kid. I remember the first time he told me. We were ten years old, walking along the beach with Scrapper, his German Shepherd. He had turned to me, brown curly hair falling over his face.  “Hey, did you know if you play around with a radio around here you can get in touch with ghosts?” he had said, and little me had laughed and teased him until he had pulled out his father’s radio from his backpack. “Do you want to see?” Ten-year-old PJ’s smirk almost mirrors his elder self-seven years later as he grins suggestively at the group around the fire.

 I catch my friends smirk across the fire and shake my head with my own smile. PJ did look spooky despite his efforts.  Louise, sitting with her arm wrapped around a boy I’m not entirely sure of his name, raises her beer in excitement. “I thought we were telling scary stories?” she complains, then she raises her beer to get everyone else’s attention. “Who’s up for it?”

 Her cheer sets off everyone else; the whole group starts to cheer and wolf whistle. PJ almost looks disappointed, before winking at me. “Later” and then he yells to the others.  “Settle down!” he resumes shining his phone underneath his chin so it illuminated his face perfectly. His green eyes seemed almost like they were glowing. I don’t really see myself as gay, but looking at PJ I’m not sure I’m straight either.  “Any volunteers?”

I should admit it. I hadn’t expected this. Especially when the camping trip was nothing more than an idea in PJ Liguori’s wonderful mind in the middle of English. _We should go camping next weekend!_ He had just come out with it one day in the middle of May. _Before college starts_. PJ seemed to have got lost in the idea, organizing everything from tents and alcohol, to allocated placed around the fire. And looking around now, seeing everyone bathed under a warm sunset, I can’t help think it’s perfect. Right now, my life is damn perfect.

 I take a second to lean back, tipping my head back and gazing into a perfect Twilight swirl of purple and black filling the sky. Just over the horizon there was a familiar milky glow starting to light surrounding clouds. Moonlight. I grin to myself. _Man, I’m going to miss this._ I’ve already got an offer from Manchester Metropolitan University to study English and Journalism. If I get my grades, which I know I will, I’ll be heading off to study a long way away, while my friends take the safe option and study locally. PJ was making it his mission to get me to change my mind, but I’d been on this island for seventeen years old my life. As much as I loved it, I wanted change.

 “Right, so which one of you fuckers has a story to share?” PJ shines his light over every face, and I wince when he seems to let his light linger on me. He cocks his eyebrows suggestively, and I _swear_ his gaze flickers over to where Cas sits with Joe and Caspar. Cas was a made-up crush I’d invented when PJ, acting like a fifteen-year-old girl, had grilled me on who I had my eyes on in our year group.

 I send him my best _don’t fucking dare_ and he just grins, resuming with his light bouncing around the fire.

 “I have one.” A boy with short brown hair stood up with a smile, announcing himself. He doesn’t seem familiar to me.  He grins at the group. “Once upon a time-”

 “A ghost story, Elliott.” PJ rolls his eyes, taking a sip of beer. “Not a fairy-tale.” Elliot seems offended. “It is a ghost story!” PJ raises his hands in defence. “Alright then…” he gestures to Elliot with a cocky smile. “The stage is yours.”

 I almost automatically tune out, letting the boy I didn’t know- Elliot- start to spin out a story. The whole group goes silent, and I revel in that, letting my mind wander. I let my gaze roll lazily over the beach, taking in the darkening sky, the soft sand, the cliff’s spiky edges.

 “Phil!” I startle, whipping my head up, only to meet bright cerulean eyes practically burning into my own. Cas. He’s standing in front of me, waving his arms to get my attention. Well shit. My cheeks start to burn and I duck my head, letting my black hair spill over my eyes. “Mm, I’m listening.”  I mutter, trying not to look directly at him. Every time I find myself even glancing at him, my stomach does backflips. He doesn’t seem to notice, thank god. With a snarky smirk, he goes back to his seat and leaves me to sort of stare after him like I’m some sort of YA lovesick teenager.

 I can admit it, I’m a pretty good actor.

 “Phil, we didn’t come on this trip to daydream.” Chris sends me a disappointed look, which automatically morphs into a grin. I ignore him, rolling my eyes.

 Elliot began to tell his story in a rough low voice, and I reluctantly allow myself to tune into his story. “Okay, so once there was this pizza place, pretty famous for its secret sauce which nobody knew the ingredients of.”

  _Heh, like the Krabby Patty secret formula._ My mind seems to drift back into my thoughts, and despite myself, I let out a barely audible giggle.

 Elliot sits down, fashioning his expression into concentration as he gazed into the fire. “There were these kids who were reported missing at the pizza place, and it turned out-” my head snaps up, and I frown at him. The sort of dozed feeling wrapping my mind in candyfloss, seems to disperse, and I open my mouth to speak. Elliot shoots me a glare.

  _Hold on. I know this story._

 “Wait,” Louise stands up, brushing off her skirt and fiddling with her plaited blonde hair.   “Is this Five Night’s at Freddie’s?”   _Those were my exact thoughts._

 Elliott stops talking then, glowering at Louise. “No!” he defends himself, but his lips can’t seem to stay in a serious line. He cracks up then, giggling, and Louise rolls her eyes, chucking a can at him. I roll my eyes. _Knew it_.

 PJ stands up once again. “Okay, so Elliot, that was bullshit.” he smirks at the other boy, who sends him the finger. He raises his voice.  “So, I’m officially banning Elliot from alcohol for an hour.”

 Elliot seems weirdly okay with that, and sinks down onto his place on the log, picking up a Coke from the huge crate we were all sharing instead, and cracked it open.

 “Okay, who’s turn, is it?” PJ’s voice was a low murmur, no doubt trying to achieve immersion among our group gathered around the fire. I lean forward on my knees, enjoying feeling the soft sand slipping between my bare toes. I shiver slightly, wrapping my arms around my chest and inching closer to the fire. Its warm glow bathes his face and I smile to himself, glancing up to where PJ was looking around the fire for volunteers. _Shit._ I duck my head, hiding behind a curtain of my dark hair. God, PJ, not me. How many times have I messed up trying to tell you something?

 Every time I try and describe something, whether it’s something funny that happened at college, or some news story that freaked me out, it always ended up coming out wrong because I constantly get tongue tied. It worried my parents so much when I was a kid that they got me tested for Dyslexia and Dyspraxia. Both came back negative. I’m just not a natural born storyteller.

 “Nobody?” PJ scans the group and then let’s out a dramatic sigh. “Fine, I’ll tell one.” he grins and not one person around the fire bats an eyelid. Nobody could resist a story from PJ. Unlike me, he was the ultimate storyteller.  That boy’s head was bursting with creative narratives and the actual ability to create a beginning, middle and all while keeping his listeners fully enticed.

 PJ plays with his phone once again, flickering the torchlight underneath his chin to get that ‘spooky’ feeling. “Okay, so.” he spreads out his arms and began in a low growl. “This is the story of Lorraine and Matthew Phillips,” I watch his lips curl into a playful smile, his teeth glint against the flickering firelight “It was a dark and stormy night,” he begins. “Lorraine Phillips and her husband Matthew were on their way back from a holiday retreat.” I watch PJ carefully as he tells the story, unable to help gazing at the orange glimmer in his eyes projecting from the fire. “Matthew was feeling pretty tired since he’d been driving most of the day and Lorraine was eager to get back home since she had work the next day,” he continues. I can’t help zone out as he starts to dig deeper into the story, twisting his voice to act out the characters. I look around the group, scanning each face. Every eye is on PJ. Chris and Louise, having huddled next to each other on the log, were leaning against each other, both of their attention completely glued to PJ.

 As my friends seem to all be in a peaceful trance, their faces illuminated by the fire, I let my gaze wander- past the group and the campfire, past PJ and his wicked grin as he narrated his story. “BANG BANG BANG!” He yells, clenching his hands into fists and miming a rather violent knock. I watched Louise jump, suddenly, her wide eyes suddenly frightened. I start to chuckle and hold her gaze, waiting for her to notice, but she seems completely embroiled in the story. _Ah, damn_. I hold her gaze for a second longer, waiting for her to notice so I could roll my eyes at her, but she doesn’t even avert her eyes. They seem to be permanently stuck to PJ’s playful smirk.

 I start to look away, feeling only slightly disappointed that I was the only one really awake. The rest seemed captured by PJ’s vivid imagination. I stare at Louise, one of my best friends since childhood. I watch her eyes widen as she listens to the story, one pale hand over her mouth. And then I continue to watch Louise, cocking my head with a frown. Because I swear I just-

 For just a second, a single second, I swear I saw something. Or rather- someone, behind my friend. Something cold slips down my spine as I blink once and then again, before reverting my gaze back to her. I have to look again, I can’t help it. I turn to her again, feeling my heart start to slam in my chest. But when I finally manage to look back at Louise, I only see _her_ and her slowly spreading smile as PJ reaches the climax of the story. _For just a second, there was…_

 I will myself to look closer, to scan every single empty space near Louise, and then, panicking, I start to scan the whole group, trying to find that _thing_ amongst my friends, hidden in the glow of the firelight. I can hear my own heart pounding in my ears as I go over each face, paying attention to detail. PJ, now stood up, shouting now as he narrates his character’s demise. “Matthew runs as fast as he can!” he practically screams, stamping his feet in the sand. “But the wound in his leg is slowing him down, he starts to fall, starts to lose consciousness as the masked man-”

 _There!_ My mind screams at me, and my gaze skips past PJ, and back to Louise. She’s cradling her knees now, still caught up in PJ’s world, but it’s not _her_ I’m staring at. I see it clear as day now, and my breath hitches in my throat and my stomach flips over. There’s a figure standing behind Louise, overshadowing her. At first i think it’s my imagination and I dig my thumb in the flesh of my hand, gritting my teeth against the pain. But when I look back, I notice the shadow seems to be becoming more and more opaque. The _thing_ seems to be bleeding further into my vision as if I myself am projecting it through continuously staring at the spot behind my friend. I want to look away and can feel my natural instincts screaming at me to speak out loud, address it, or try and blink it out of existence. But I can’t. All I can do is continue to watch it. The shadow seemed to twist and turn, developing a human head, and then limbs. It moves then, walking straight through the log, and then Louise, before stepping directly into the fire and before my eyes, glimmers out of existence, seemingly evaporating amongst the smoke and dancing flames glinting brightly.

 “AND THEY WERE DEAD ALL ALONG!!” PJ’s voice seems to drift back into my mind, and I hear my friends letting out startled cries and amused laughter, but I don’t move. I don’t tear my gaze from the fire. I feel perspiration from the heat sliding down my face and am heavily aware that my mouth is hanging open, as if I too am completely terrified by PJ’s story. But instead my focus is on the bright oranges and yellows of the fire. I squint as tendrils of smoke linger in the air, rejoicing together for a single second before disappearing into the night. “Phil?” I hear my name being called, once- and then again. “Hey, Phil!” someone is in front of me then, and I blink rapidly, trying to slow down my racing heart. “Dude?” PJ is standing there, and for a second my heartbeat creeps back up, my mouth goes dry.  I _swear_ he’s standing directly in the fire. “Huh?” I glance up to be greeted by something cool being thrust into my hands, and my vision seems to clear against the smoke. PJ. Standing in front of me holding a beer.

 “I think your story scared two shits outta him,” Felix says. For the first time, his accent actually gets on my nerves.

 I stare at it as if it’s a foreign object and swallow hard. “Phil, was my story _that_ scary?” PJ grins at me, and the others seem to make a collective rumble of laughter. I straighten up, trying to clear my head and fashion a grin on my face. I take the beer and crack it open, taking a sip. The liquid is a relief, slipping down my throat. “Are you okay?” PJ’s voice softens so only I can hear it and he nudges me playfully. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Though his eyes suddenly turn more wary when I take too long to answer. “Peej, come and tell another story!” Dodie shouts across the fire. I glance up for a second, catching her figure in the moonlight. I feel my breath catch again, but shake my head. _Get a hold of yourself!_ It was just Dodie. I smile despite my panicky gaze flickering around the campfire. “Phil,” PJ says, and I glance up, meeting his dark eyes.

 “Did you see a-” he’s interrupted then, by a loud splash, and we both turn, me more in fear, and him, laughing, to see Chris carrying Elliot bridal style into the sea. I watch, captivated for a second, as the two boys fall into the water which is illuminated by the moon. “Chris, you idiot!” PJ races over and joins them in the sea, and before I know it, everyone is diving in, letting out shrill cries from the temperature of the water. I need to clear my head. PJ is shouting me over, his exhilarated yells being drowned out by Louise’s squeals as Felix and Dodie chucked her into the water. Before I know what I’m doing, my only thought is dunking my head in the sea and forgetting what I saw. I walk slowly across the beach with my pace quickening as the yells and splashes from the others tempt me further as if the very ocean was calling to me. I reach the shadows. The others have all stripped of their clothes but I’m feeling self-conscious so I wade in still fully clothed. I wince when the water soaks through my jeans and automatically regret my decision to follow the others. I stride further in with a sigh, trying not to think about what I saw on the beach. It was a trick of the firelight, I tell myself.  The tide is calm as I wade in deeper and deeper. I let my fingers trail the water with a small smile.

 “Get in properly!” someone shouts, a voice that’s not familiar to me. I look up, watching the other’s waist deep in the sea, laughing and screaming. There’s a girl with long blonde hair clinging to her face as she stands with Louise, hugging her chest for warmth. I think Louise named her as Holly, though I wasn’t sure. “Come on!” she laughs, letting out a squeal when Louise pushes her. She yelps and falls under the water, and I try and laugh along too, wading further and further into the sea. I feel my legs get heavier as I submerge myself almost neck deep, and then close my eyes, letting myself sink into the dark depths. The water is almost lukewarm now I’m used to it, and easily dive down, blind against what exactly what _living_ beneath me. But the water is a relief- almost a weight off my chest. I love the feeling of the water crawling up my nose as I hold my breath against the current. My vision starts to adapt to the darkness, and I look around. Everything seems so silent under the water, so peaceful. I tip my head back and watch my strands of my obsidian hair dance around my head like seaweed. I can just about see the surface- the moon as it cast a milky whole glow across the water. I start to swim back up, but for just a second my eye catches _something_ floating directly in front of me and I squint. It was brown, the colour of dark, rich chocolate.

 And then realisation strikes me. I let out a cry, which is pulled from my mouth by the watery depths and instead bubbles stream around me as I continue to scream. Hair. I was seeing hair. And attached to that, an actual face. _Not real_! My mind screams at me. NOT REAL, OH GOD, THIS ISN’T REAL.

 I scream mentally, and I’m staring at the face of a boy around my age. His eyes are closed, his lips tinged blue. I stay there suspended for a second, staring at the face in front of me. My vision was blurry so I _could_ be hallucinating, but the face had a body, and limbs- but they were all wrong. His arms were limp, floating around him as if he was dancing. I didn’t see legs, but I see something clinging to his torso, something black- a jacket, billowing around him. I catch the glint of a zip, and then looking further, I see the dark blue of jeans stuck to his lifeless legs, limp arms floating either side of him covered in braided bracelets and what look like bands.

  _I’m not seeing things. He’s real._ His skin colour seems…wrong. I can’t seem to register it in my mind. His skin was white and pallid. It looked like it might tear at a single touch.

 He floats as if he’s an angel with no wings, only limp arms to allow him to scathe the current slowly, drifting him further and further away from me. Something hits me then, a word, first quiet, then getting louder and louder in my head. _Dead. He’s dead._

 My mind goes into hyper drive and I’m about to dive to the surface, screaming for help. But my legs won’t seem to move and suddenly my limbs are as dead as his. I can’t help notice it- both of our legs seemingly entrapped by the water. But while mine still jerk and struggle against it, his stay still.

  _Go!_ I scream at myself, and I’m about to start kicking and screaming despite my voice being silenced by the water. But I stay for a second, watching _him._ I watched his head seem to bounce rhythmically against the current, his brown hair fly around him like a halo. I’m sure he’s dead. The word is reverberating through my head down my spine, causing my entire body to erupt into panic.

But then his eyes flicker open and I jerk away, another bubbly scream erupting from my mouth. But I can’t move, I can’t tear my gaze away from him. My chest aches as it craves oxygen but I stare back at the boy as he looks back at me, colourless eyes seeming to go straight through my own. I’m too scared to move, to even scream.

 The boy’s lips seem to prise open, as if he hadn’t used them in a while, the blue tinge to them glinting against the water. He mouths something I can’t comprehend, whatever he’s saying is lost as his mouth doesn’t seem to comply with his words, and his eyes widen, lips seeming to do the only thing they can, which is scream, and his yell is silent as bubbles surround him, seemingly engulfing him in their oceanic trap. I shut my eyes, trying to ignore my body craving the air, and the sweet oxygen it held. I need air, I tell myself. Though my mind screams something else, completely overriding all logic.

_Not real_

_Not real_

_Not real._

 My eyes fly open, despite the sting, and I can’t help it- I’m searching for the boy, the- oh god, the dead boy who opened his mouth with his bruised and dead lips, speaking to me.

 He’s gone. I stare at the empty space he had occupied, now completely desolate. I was staring at nothing. A void under the water.

  _Air, Phil!_ My body screams. _You need air!_

 My body seems to comply against my struggles then, and I thrust my body back to the surface, breaking it coughing and choking. Water streams down my face as I swim back to shore, my arms shaking as I try and tread water. Once I’m in the shallows, I bend over, falling to my knees in the and cough up water, gasping and choking against my heaving chest.

 Once I’m sure I’m not dying, I’m suddenly vaguely aware of my heart trying to rip through my chest. I stand shakily, wiping water droplets from my eyes, blinking rapidly. The world seems to drift back into my vision after a few seconds, and I try and calm my rapid breaths as I watch the surface of the still water glint against the moon’s light. I saw a dead boy- a dead boy who _screamed at me._

I stumble back to the shallows, and then let myself fall knees-first onto the sand, shaking uncontrollably. I’m drenched, my clothes sticking to my skin. I pull off my sopping wet clothes, chucking them on the sand. Then I lie back, letting my head rest on the soft surf. I and stare at the sky, trying to locate something to distract me. The moon, sitting there in the middle of the sky, casting an almost hypnotising light across the beach. I’m breathing heavily, my chest aching as I try and calm myself. There’s a dead boy in the sea- a dead boy who opened his eyes and screamed at me.

After a while of lying on the sand, trying to calm my pounding heart, I stand up, picking up my wet shirt and ringing it, squeezing water from it, before slipping it back on. The sensation of the material slapping over my skin with a wet _smack_ made me feel sick.

 Distant yells and shouts break me from the spell which had muted me, and I cup my mouth, my hands visibly shaking. It takes me a few minutes after trying to hold down the bile inching towards my throat. _There was a dead boy under the water_. My mind seemed t have been on an endless loop before coming to the realization. But he couldn’t have been dead- he spoke to me! He opened his mouth and he _screamed._

 “Did anyone…?!” my voice is a sharp cry, edging on hyperventilating. I twist around, back to the water searching hopefully a punchline. The brunette boy rising out of the water giggling, telling me he could hold his breath and his job was to _look dead._

I shiver, waiting for something to happen. But nothing does. I’m alone on the sand, my friends further away, deep in the ocean. _You’re losing it, Phil_. I tell myself, but can’t help looking around once more. Just…. once more won’t hurt, right? I can’t stop myself from turning back around, but as I turn, I know what I’ll see. Nothing. All I see is the endless lapse of sand and sea eloping in the moonlight.

I’m going mad. Oh god, I’m losing my mind.

“Phil?” PJ’s voice nearly makes me jump out of my skin, and I twist around to see him standing there, sopping wet. “Dude, you have to tell me what’s up with you tonight,” I can only stare blankly at him, opening my mouth and then hesitating. What am I supposed to tell him? That I was seeing dead boys under the sea? PJ’s expression is wary, his eyebrows knitted together almost as if it’s paining him that I’m acting like this. The others are still playing in the sea and I’m grateful that it’s only the two of us. I wrap my arms around myself for comfort and bite back a whine. “I think I saw…” my voice is soft and I sound like a little kid. PJ frowns at me. “What is it?” he folds his arms, and then after a second, his eyes widen and he seems to read my mind because next thing I know he’s grabbing my t-shirt roughly and dragging me further away from the others, up the beach. “Did you see one of them?” he grins and I can’t help looking surprised though faux surprise. “See what?” I try my hardest to lie, though it’s evident in my voice that I’m very clearly trying to lie my way out of this. Though nothing gets past PJ. His bright eyes study me as if I’m a specimen of science. He laughs. “A ghost, idiot!” he claps me on the back excitedly and I bite my lip against a yelp. PJ really could pack a punch.

 PJ rings out his t-shirt and peels off his jeans, trying to ring them out too, squeezing water from them. “Well?” he puts his t-shirt back on, wrapping his arms around his chest. “Man, it’s cold!”

 I shuffle uncomfortably and consider lying to him- but he’s all business. Standing inches away from my face with that damn grin. I avoid eye-contact, my gaze slipping to the sand. I study every individual grain between my toes. “I think-“I start, hesitating slightly. “PJ, I think I saw…” I’m pretty set on saying “something” but PJ beats me to it. “A ghost!” he squeaks excitedly. “Phil, you saw a ghost!”

 I don’t have much time to say anything, because suddenly he’s there, _right_ in my face, his grin giving the Cheshire cat a run for its money. “What did he look like?!” he demands, then curses “Fuck, no, was it a _she_?” he’s speaking so fast I can barely understand him. I push him back with a startled laugh, which was barely a laugh. I just needed him to get out of my face so I could breathe. “It was a _him_.” I say softly, and PJ whistles and he winks teasingly. “A boy, huh? Was he cute?”

 I feel something icy slip down my spine and shiver. I can see the boy in my mind again. Nameless. He had no identity, no clue or hint to who he had been. I see him once again, floating in the water directly in front of me, bruised lips tinged the very colours of death- blue and purple and black. His eyes were closed almost peacefully, like he was sleeping soundlessly in the ocean, his brunette hair swirling around him. And then… then I see a _different_ him. I see his eyes fly open, that spark of life I thought was gone, suddenly burning bright. Though, fuck, his eyes are colourless- void of anything that could even consider him alive. I wish I knew what shade they had been. He’s screaming then- his mouth open wide in desperation, as if realizing _where_ he was. And then he was gone- evaporating into the bubbles from his silent screams.

 “Well?” PJ is staring at me, and I shuffle uncomfortably, swallowing harshly. My throat didn’t want seem to want to co-operate. “He wasn’t _that_ type of ghost,” I say, softly. PJ doesn’t move, and I shrug. “Not like the whole, appear in the dark room of an old mansion and haunt little kids.” I say. “He was more…” I can’t seem to say it. There doesn’t seem to be an explanation that won’t make me sound crazy. What exactly did I see? Did I see an actual ghost? Or did I see the body of a dead boy?

 PJ doesn’t rush me, only simply waits patiently. I can hear Elliot across the beach yelling that he was too cold, followed by yells of agreement and promises of ordering takeout. “Look, I saw something under the water when I was swimming.” I say keeping my voice down, and his eyes widen almost comically. “What, like a body?” he hisses, and all the excitement drains from his face.

 I find it hard not to nod my head, and PJ whistles softly. “Fuck,” he murmurs, his gaze trailing over to the still water. I can hear the tide swishing over the sand and the sound lolls me into a calm state. I stare hard at the patch of water I’d seen…. _whatever I’d seen_ and follow PJ’s gaze _. The boy wasn’t moving. His entire body was limp, his face was ashen for god sake!_ “A ghost.” I say finally, seemingly breaking the silence that had enveloped the two of us. PJ seems to snap out of it, coming back to attention, his green eyes landing back on me. He’d been watching the waves elope each other with a look of thoughtfulness on his face. “Hmm?” he murmured, then seemed to snap out of it, blinking rapidly and clearing his throat. “What, a ghost?!” like a wind-up toy being reawakened, PJ quickly reverts to his old self. “Are you absolutely sure it was a ghost?” he hisses. He’s grabbed onto my arm again and, fuck, it _hurts._ I tug my arm back with a sigh. “It was a ghost.” I say, and before he can answer back, I grab his hand and pull him back up the beach. “I saw a dead boy “I say, and then after hesitating. “He…you don’t understand, his body was limp and broken-“ I say, gritting my teeth against the sudden bitter breeze scathing my neck. “He opened his eyes and screamed at me.” I explain, finding myself fiddling with my thumbs. He’s going to think I’m crazy. PJ frowns, cocking his head.

 “Wait, what did he say?” he asks in almost a whisper. I spy the others climbing out of the sea now, falling onto the sand, laughing. “Are you joking?” I stare at my friend. He doesn’t seem to understand, so I let out almost a hysterical laugh- a chuckle twisting into a scoff. “What? It was under water!”

 I expect PJ to let out a nervous laugh, but he instead grabs my hand and starts pulling me across the beach, back down mini sand dunes towards the campfire. “What is it?” I ask, when he drops to his knees and starts towards my abandoned bag. Though I have a pretty good idea. Sure enough, PJ fumbles in my bag for a while as I stand over him. I cast a quick glance around the beach, spotting the others lying together on the sand by the shallows, bunched together like sardines. “Got it!” PJ holds the little portable radio I had borrowed from my dad in the air triumphantly. I nodded, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “So,” I said, as he started back down the beach, towards the cave. His pace was getting progressively harder to keep. Up with. “So, what, you’re planning on going ghost hunting?” I ask with an amused edge to my tone. But PJ doesn’t laugh or grin at me, he just keeps walking.

 God dammit. The boy had purpose. It was his ‘I must do this’ walk. I’d seen it a million times. He was psyching himself up. “Is this really such a good idea?” I ask, powerwalking beside him. I spy Astral cave in PJ’s sights and bite back a groan. “The cave? PJ, this isn’t funny! You know I’m-“

 PJ twists around suddenly and I startle, my words twisting on my tongue. “Scared?” PJ is out of breath as he breaks into a jog. I have no choice but to follow him. Well, I do have a choice. I _could_ run back to the others and join them sunbathing- or rather _moon bathing?_ Down by the rockpools, but PJ could hurt himself. “Phil, you’re seventeen years old!” PJ grins, and once again he’s grabbing my hand. He yanks me towards Astral cave, and I start to feel uneasy. Just looking at it made me feel like running away as fast as my legs could go. PJ stops in front of it and we both come to a stop, the two of us staring at the rugged rocks in front of us bearing a pitch-dark opening. “PJ..” I say softly, a last ditch effort to get him away from the place, but he just rolls his eyes at me. “Come on, Phil!” his green eyes darken mischievously and he starts towards the opening. “Live a little,” his voice bounces right back at me through the echo as he ventures through a wide gap in between weary walls of rock which must be hundreds and thousands of years old. The battle of the elements is clear on the corroding edges.

I stay outside for a second, feeling my heart start to pound. “Come on!” PJ’s voice comes from within the cave and I stand there stubbornly for a second, trying to stall. I look around, gazing up at the sky dotted with glinting stars and then down at my toes and the individual tiny grains of sand bathing my feet. And then- then I shudder. My whole body just rattles like I’d just been venturing out in a snowstorm. But it’s August. One of the hottest days on record. I wrap my arms around myself, feeling the wet material of my t-shirt still damp against my skin. I can’t help looking up, scanning in front of me for some-kind of presence, like earlier at the campfire. But the air around me is hot and stuffy, just like it was twos seconds ago. But my arms prickle with goose-bumps. I can’t help looking behind me, suddenly getting the feeling I was being watched. “Phil?” PJ’s voice is a relief and I nearly jump out of my skin. “Uh…yeah?” my voice shakes as I slowly venture into the cave. “PJ, where are you?” I yell into the darkness. My own voice makes me cringe as the walls of the cave spring it back at me as it reverberates down my spine. PJ doesn’t answer. I can’t help sighing, taking a few wary steps forward. Bearing in mind I was barefoot. “PJ?” I yell my friends name again, but once more there is only silence. “Shit,” I mutter, walking blindly through the narrow tunnel. I had to duck slightly to edge my way through a gap I could just about see once my eyes had adjusted.

 “Hello?” my voice betrays me and cracks as I repeat PJ’s name. I shiver at the sudden drop in temperature and wrinkle my nose as the dank almost mouldy? Stink of the caves walls reach my nose. “Over here!” PJ’s voice is close, and I somehow reach him, using the cave walls as some kind of improvised compass. I blink in the darkness and can just about make out a figure standing there. I start towards it, cursing when I catch mu foot on a sharp rock. “What are you doing?” I ask, resisting the urge to start yelling at him. I wince at the pain in my foot and can feel a trickle of something, no doubt blood, starting to leak down my heel. “You owe me plasters.” I grumble.

 “Phil?” a sudden voice is behind me, and I twist around, yelping, when PJ appears, his face illuminated by the torch from his phone. “What are you doing over here?” his forehead creases with confusion against the milky white glow from the light engulfing his face. I blink at him, shielding my eyes against the harsh light. “But…” my voice trails off and then tries again. “But you were…” I turn back around to where I’d seen the figure, but there’s nothing. In PJ’s torchlight, it’s just a sharp rock jutting out of the walls. _But it was a human figure_.  It had legs and arms, and a god damn _head_.

 I figure telling PJ about the figure will fuel his fire even more, so I turn back to him and try to calm my breathing. It’s very obvious in such an enclosed and silent space. “It was just a rock.” I mutter.

 PJ doesn’t look like he believes me, but avoids questioning it. Instead he pulls out my little radio from his pocket and sends me one of his token grins. “It’s around here that you’re supposed to hear stuff.” He says, his fingers fiddling with dials and switches on the radio. It flickers on with an audible hum and its tiny screen glows a startling green. I can’t help stare in wonder as PJ holds it up and starts to crank the dials. “What exactly can it…” I clear my throat when my voice squeaks. “What can it…, um…pick up, exactly?” I ask, and PJ shrugs. “Static mostly.” He replies, but then waves the radio around. “Hold this.” He hands me the torch and I shine It directly in his face and he winces. “I meant shine it around the cave, not my face!” he pushes it away, laughing, and I fight my own smirk.

 It’s just like when we were kids. Except this time, we actually ventured into the cave.

 The radio crackles with static and my breathing hitches. “They say if you hold an out of date radio in _just_ the right place,” PJ puts on a childlike voice which I recognise from when I was a kid. I can only hold my breath as he recites the same words he whispered excitedly to me seven years ago.

 He pauses for effect and I roll my eyes. “You can pick up stations that don’t exist.” His words send shivers up and down my spine like an out of control carnival ride.

 “Like ghosts.” I murmur, echoing ten-year-old-Phil’s words. PJ nods, his lips twisting into a smirk in the torchlight. “Ghosts, alternate universes.” He lists them with his fingers. “Some say this cave is even a passage through time.” He shrugs when I hold his gaze. “What? It’s what I heard!”

 I smirk at him. “You’ve been watching too much Doctor Who.”

 The two of us stand there for at least five minutes- PJ holding the radio, and me with the torch. The radio crackles every so often but apart from getting bites from Capital FM and a burst of what sounded like Heart Radio, there was nothing. Finally, after ten minutes have passed and PJ’s arms have grown tired from holding the radio so high, he finally lets out a sigh and lowers it. “Well that was anti-climactic.” He mutters, disappointed. I can’t help chuckle. “You dragged me in here to listen to Celine Dion?” I cock an eyebrow and he rolls his eyes, shoving me playfully. The radio crackles as bits of the famous Titanic melody play and PJ seems to give up. “Maybe we’re standing in the wrong place?” he murmurs to himself. I’m happy to grab him and pull him out, back onto the beach. “The so-called legends were wrong, I guess.” I say, unable to keep my relief on the down-low. I start to grab his arm but he suddenly jerks away. “Wait, shush!” he’s gaze is on the radio as he fiddles with multiple dials. I start to tell him to _get over it_ but the sudden change in the static makes my mouth go dry. Instead of the dry crackling we’d heard before, there was a low whining noise, and I my stomach flips over. I go cold all over suddenly, gooseflesh ripping up and down my bare arms. PJ looks at me then, his eyes widening in fear. “Did you feel that?” he hisses and I can just about nod my answer.

 The low whine coming from the radio suddenly gets louder and more persistent before crackling, a burst of static making both of us jump. But it doesn’t stay long. It lasts around fifteens seconds and I resist the urge to backtrack and make a run for it. The whine felt almost like it was there in my head, enveloping itself in my thoughts. And then…then it was over. The crackles turned into a voice, shadowed by static. But this time we didn’t jump. Because it sounded like a news-reporter.

 “This is the late Newsbeat at eleven O clock. Our top story today; It’s been exactly a year since The Evers, a British band originating from London, vanished last August. The band were supposed to be playing at The Royal Indie Festival on the island of Astral just off the coat of Devon, when they failed to make it to the venue. Band members Daniel- “

 PJ shuts off the station and his breath comes out shuddery. “Okay,” he says handing me the radio. I take it without thinking, handing him back his phone.  The radio feels cold and slick and _wrong_ in my hands. “Okay, you stay here, and I’m going to get the others.” PJ says, his voice bordering on hyperventilating. “They have to hear this!”

 I blink at him as he fiddles with his phone. The torchlight still streams out, illuminating his face. He’s smiling. “Are you crazy?” I hiss. “PJ, that wasn’t…” I search for the word. “That wasn’t normal!” he hands me his phone and I groan. “C’mon,” I say, my teeth were chattering. “PJ that was scary, okay?” I throw my hands up with a sigh. “I get it, you were right!” my voice shudders as PJ nods what I really hope isn’t a _goodbye_ salute. I shout after him. “PJ, there’s something not right!”

 “Which is exactly why I need to show them!” his voice fades as he starts to jog back the way we’d come. I have half a mind to follow him, but the thought of squeezing back through the narrow tunnel in the pitch dark isn’t appealing to me. Though neither is standing in a _possibly haunted_ cave.

 “PJ, you asshole!” I yell, and my voice bounces against the walls. I curse and stand in the same spot, too wary to move. I hold PJ’s phone out in front of my face so the whole space is painted in a bright pooling light. “Okay, Phil.” I mutter to myself. The radio is still clutched in my hand. “Chill out.” I mutter, keeping my gaze on the walls of the cave. I don’t dare look around in fear of seeing _him_ or that creepy figure I thought was PJ. I busy my thoughts, trying to distract myself as I rock backwards and forwards slowly on the heels of my feet. Ow, my foot still hurt. I bet my blood was all over the cave floor.

 “University applications,” I mutter softly. “Manchester accepted, Teesside accepted-“ my breaths echo around the cave as my building anxiety starts to show. I study the hem of my t-shirt, trailing my fingers across the thread. “York haven’t got back to me-“I jump suddenly, letting out a high pitched yell, when the radio, still clutched in my hand, erupted into life letting out a hiss of garbled static.

 I nearly fall over. It takes just about every ounce of energy I have, to keep my balance. I sway, head spinning, as what is happening registers in my brain.

 PJ turned it off. I tell myself, shaking. I study the radio, staring at the little green light illuminating the screen. PJ turned if off? Before I know what I’m doing my fingers are fiddling with dials and buttons, desperately trying to get the damn thing off. “Come on!” I hiss, stabbing buttons and then, getting annoyed, the screen. But despite my attempts, the radio stays on even when I find the ON/OFF button, sliding it to ‘OFF’.

 “PJ?” I say softly, and then as my voice gained momentum: “PJ!”

 No answer. The more I mess with the radio, the stronger the signal becomes. The high-pitched whine is back, accompanied by a screeching noise that rattles my ears. Then the crackling erupts into a startling screech, turning into a more human sounding voice and I shudder again as the same feeling from earlier brushes lightly against my skin. A familiar voice murmurs though the static and I nearly drop the radio.

 ““This is the late Newsbeat at eleven O clock. Our top story today; It’s been exactly a year since The Evers, a British band originating from London, vanished last August. The band were supposed to be playing at The Royal Indie Festival on the island of Astral just off the coat of Devon, when they failed to make it to the venue. Band members Daniel- “A feeling like being electrocuted buzzes through me and I start to shake uncontrollably, the radio bouncing in my hands. It won’t turn off.

 The same news report. My brain manages to conjure a thought.  I’m about to yell for PJ again, but the radio interrupts me, letting out a high-pitched squeal before once again morphing into the same reporter’s voice. But this time it’s only a single word, and with the same man’s voice, the radio starts to repeat it as if it’s stuck on a record.

 _“Daniel… Daniel…Daniel…Daniel…. Daniel…”_ I drop the radio then, letting a scared yelp erupt from my lips. The device springs from my hands and lends face down on a rock jutting from the cave floor. But the voice doesn’t stop. There’s no crackling anymore. Just the news reporters same voice on a loop, echoing around the cave. “Daniel…Daniel…Daniel…Daniel…”

 “Shit!” I grab the radio and hold it high above my head, my voice coming out in almost a moan. “Your name?” I say, hopefully. “Your name’s Daniel?”

 The radio suddenly gets louder, and I drop it again, covering my ears. But it doesn’t break or switch off. I duck and grab the radio, holding it up once again. “Is someone…” I bit my lip. “Is someone there?”

 The radio bursts into life again, but this time it wasn’t a string of “Daniel’s”. It was a mixture of news reporters. Their voices mixed and strung together. Words from sentences they had spoken were being significantly picked out. “One…” an American woman said through the static- followed by what sounded like a child; “O.” and then another woman sounding like she was counting down; “SEVEN”.

 I wait for the next word, unable to stop my hands shaking. “POINT!” a man yelled through the static, as if he was a presenter in a gameshow. And finally, “Nine” from sounded like another news report. I stand, frozen, repeating the words in my head. 1, 0, 7, the word POINT and then 9.

 It comes to me automatically, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m fiddling with the dial on the radio, cranking it to 107.9.  
  


“That’s…” a rush of static accompanying a news voice. The voice of a boy around my age. “Better.” He says, and I jerk backwards, nearly losing my balance again. “Now…. turn….it……. higher.” he says, and his voice is getting stronger as I do as I’m told. I can’t help it. His voice is almost hypnotising. I crank the radio up to the top frequency, and let out a breath. So does he by the sounds of it. “That…wasn’t hard.” He says and I can detect a southern accent. I hold my breath waiting for him to say something, but he stays silent. The radio crackles along with his breaths.

 “Who are you?” I ask slowly, and then want to pinch myself. “Right,” I laugh shakily. “That’s right, you’re Daniel.” I can’t help adding; “But, _what_ are you?”

 There’s a short silence before he says, “Little red riding hood.” And I frown, staring at the radio, as if I was looking at a person. “I don’t…” my heart starts to thump. “I don’t understand.”

 “What am I?” the boy says, as if questioning himself. “I’m Dan.” And then, “I guess I’m dead.”

He _guesses?!_

 I don’t know what to say to that, so I keep quiet.  Then I can’t help it. It’s the kind of thing you _must_ ask, even if it sounds rude or sensitive. If I didn’t ask I’d go crazy from wondering.

 “How did…” I swallow roughly. “Um, how did you die?”

 After another pause, he sighs, and the radio crackles. “Do you trust me?” he asks through the static, and I open my mouth to say ‘no’ but something stops me. I think about how young he sounds, and how… _human_ and _normal_ he sounds. I expected something from an R rated video game.

 “Yeah.” I say softly, and then clear my throat. “Yes, I…uh…I trust you.”

 He chuckles and the radio fizzes and crackles. “You’re telling me, you trust a random crackly voice on the radio?” I feel my body go icy cold. “I _shouldn’t_ trust you?”

 “Hold on.” He murmurs, and I find myself nodding. The radio suddenly lets out a high-pitched squawk and I grit my teeth. “Right, sorry about that.” His voice comes through again, but something’s different. I cry out suddenly, when I _feel_ breath on the back of my neck. His breath. I twist around, shining PJ’s phone wildly. The beam bounces off the walls but nobody is here. It’s just me.

 “I’m standing behind you.” The voice murmurs. “Right, okay, for this to work, you have to let me touch you.” He says. “Is that okay?”

  _A ghost is asking for my consent._

I nod my head, my lips barely parting. “Mm.” I say in reply.

 Before I can regret my reply, something icy slips into my hand as if I’m gripping an icicle and I _feel_ him next to me. “I’m going to show you what happened to me.” He says softly, and I swear his breath is on my neck, making me tremble. “It wasn’t pleasant.” He says before I can reply. A million thoughts fly around my head. _Murder_. A voice- my own- whispers in the faraway crevices of my mind.

 The boy – or Dan- doesn’t say anything for a while. I open my mouth to speak, but suddenly I can’t move. My entire body goes numb and I can’t speak- I can’t even move my lips. “Sorry.” His voice sounds clearer now, as if he’s directly in front of me. “Just relax, okay?”

 It sounds ridiculous- listening to a _ghost_ \- a presence around me. But I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and feel myself drift from reality. The stank of the cave disperses in my senses and I smell something else. Mildew. Rotting wood. I wrinkle my nose, opening one eye and then the other, and bite back a yelp when I find myself in the middle of a wood. The sky above me is pitch black, no longer dotted with stars. There’s no moon. Just darkness.

 And then a voice. The same voice in my ear, but this time it sounded real and alive. I take a few steps backwards, my feet crunching in brush and debris on the forest floor. “It’s just an illusion.” He says in my mind. “You’re only seeing what I saw.”

  _What?!_ I start to panic as another voice penetrates my thoughts. “What time do they want us there?” his voice seems to drift into existence, and when I blink, I catch sight of him by my side. A tall boy. His face was overshadowed by the darkness, or maybe Dan just didn’t want me to see him.

 “Just relax.” Dan says murmurs. I open my eyes and he’s right. I’m back in the cave again, the radio still stuck to my hand. Though I can still smell the mildew and rotten wood from the forest. There’s a motion in front of me and I watch as a figure bleeds into existence in front of my eyes. I don’t say anything, but I know what or _who_ it is.

 Its Dan. The shadowy figure moves towards me slowly and this time I hear his voice clear as day, echoing around the cave.  “I’m going to show you how I died.”

*

“Dan, what did I tell you? You have school to think about! You’re part way through your GCSE’s for goodness sake!”

 It’s hard to tune out the sound of my mother. I try to though, attempting to hear the depressing prongs of Snow Patrol’s _Chasing Cars_ coming from the radio. This taxi driver was really into his soul-destroying pop.

 Monty shoots me a smirk over his seat and I roll my eyes, giving him the finger. “Mum, It’s just one gig.” I say, letting my gaze wander from the back of my band mate’s head to the window of the taxi, where raindrops trickled down the glass. Monty laughs, instead turning to the driver and starting to make conversation. “So, are there any club’s around here?” of course the driver ignores him. I smirk to myself. Monty just had one of _those_ faces that taxi drivers loved to tune out of existence.

 When I first met him, I must admit I was very nearly racist. “Can you speak English?!” I’d demanded out loud at break-time, just to get a laugh. Because I was joker Dan of course, the class clown. Monty Prior was our baby of the band- with a talent for drumming. He was also the member out of the three of us who got the most female attention with his sleek black hair and vivid green eyes. “Dan, just put the phone down.” He turns in his seat, giving me the first serious look that day. I glare at him and mime that my mother _was still on the damn line!_

Sometimes I question how exactly I became friends with Monty. It just…happened? one day I was being my usual dick self in year eight, probably teasing him. But then I’d heard him singing to himself in form one day, drumming his pencils on the desk. I was…I guess I could say I had an _okay_ voice, at least for backing vocals. So, we just sort of…clicked. Monty Prior came one of my closest friends.

Monty doesn’t say anything. He just grumbles something along the lines of “You’re nearly eighteen, jeez.” And then he was back to drumming his drum sticks on his knees, slowly nodding his head to a beat only he could hear.

 Imagine a famous Korean boyband. That’s what we were with Monty. He was born in Korea but moved to the UK when he was twelve with his mum. I don’t consider myself as gay, but Monty really tested those feelings. He was sixteen, a year younger than me, and could stop an argument with some crummy joke or those damn dimples. “Daniel?!” my mother cuts me out of my thoughts and I sigh, fiddling with the zip on my jacket. We’d decided to go with matching outfits for tonight. Lee’s idea. Our first concert. I pull at the tight black t-shirt clinging to my torso. We look like gimps.

 “Mm, I’m still here.” I mutter, laying my head against the window. Before mum can get a word in, I get there first. “Look, I told you I’ll be back before ten, okay? Ben got us a gig on…” I trail off, glancing out the windows once again. The sky was a dark grey, the sun nowhere to be seen. “Astral Island.” I say, trying to ignore the funny feeling twisting in my gut. Thank god, the gig is inside.

 “Dan, please listen to me.” Mum says. She sounds tearful. Though she’s always been like this, since I was her only child. She lost my sister through a still-birth and I think she clings onto me because she’s afraid of losing me too. “Look, I know you’re not a child,” she starts- “but this band is taking over your life!” she wails. “Daniel, all I want is what’s best for you.” I open my mouth to shout something at her, maybe tell her to get a grip and that it was just a fucking gig, for crying out loud.

 But instead I keep all of that in, that raging screech that had been building in my throat since she threw my guitar in the bin, claiming it was “distracting” – “I love you.” I murmur into the phone, and there’s a short silence before her breath hitches. “You idiot,” she says. “Don’t you think I love you too?” and before she starts lecturing me or crying, I tap END CALL, shoving the phone back in my jacket.

 “That sounded intense.” I look up to meet Lex’s wary smirk. Lex Copperfield. I call him ‘The hipster Ron Weasly” because of the shock of red hair under a knitted beanie which seemed to be permanently glued to his head. He never took the damn thing off. “I thought you were asleep.” I mutter. Mum’s put me in a bad mood- of course. Last time I bothered looking at Lex, he had stretched out on the backseat, cradling his head in his arms, his phone still illuminating some app game he’d been playing around with.  His red hair had spilled over his face so I couldn’t see his expression- but I knew he was smiling. Lex never stopped fucking smiling. Lex was the optimistic one out of us all- also the eldest. At 20 years, old, he was in his third year at university. We’re a misshapen band, with me and Monty still in high school. We met through an advert Lex had put on Facebook.

  **DRUMMER AND GUITARIST WANTED TO START A BAND.**

**CALL LEX COPPERFIELD**

**MOBILE: 07564563452**

**(YOU MUST HAVE AT LEAST 5 YEARS EXPERIENCE) :)**

Well, I’d been playing the guitar since I was ten years old, Monty was a talented drummer after winning the 2014 Winter talent show at our school. It was more of a big rebellious **FUCK YOU** to my mum, I didn’t really think we’d work out. But with Lex’s almost hypnotising singing voice, Monty’s good looks and drumming and my- guitar work- we actually worked out!

 The Evers. A band name we’d come up with after arguing for three street days over. The most infuriating days of my life. Lex wanted something smooth and indie, because that’s what we were. We had covered a bunch of Twin Atlantic songs so of course Lex wanted to try out as a tribute band. Though I wanted a dark and depressing name- something about death, anyway. “How about Suicide Squad?” I’d suggested, half out of it from weed and too many jaeger bombs. We’d been staying at Lex’s student accommodation and had all the alcohol we could get our hands on.

 “You’re not funny, Dan.” Lex had said, but still scribbled **SUICIDE SQUAD** with a few dozen question marks underneath the list of names we’d managed to come up with on the small plastic white board.

 “Canyon Stank?” Monty’s voice had been muffled- he’d been half asleep, his head enveloped in his arms on the table. “The Smalls?”

 “Death Parade?” I’d been pretty proud of that suggestion. It took me at least twenty minutes of staring into space and willing those _dead_ braincells choked on alcohol and weed to work.

 You might think one of us had accidently said something along the lines of “Oh man, we’re never EVER going to think of one” and then we’d all shout “THE EVERS!” simultaneously, before agreeing on the name, toasting our empty glasses to ‘the best name ever’ and then passing out.

 No, Lex’s flatmate Emily, who had been the one to allow us to stay in the flat kitchen all night, had ended up coming in some time while we were still out of it, grabbing the marker pen still on the table and scribbling; “The Evers?” before heading off to university. I’d woken up and the name seemed…right. It seemed normal, like that name was setting me up for some kind of destiny.

 Two weeks later we were officially ‘The Evers’ and had been signed to Flint Records for nearly a month now.

 Lex yawns, covering his mouth. “Is everything okay?” he fiddles with his black jacket, pulling a face. I think he got the wrong size. The jackets sleeves were too short. I nod, smiling. “Yeah, just…mum.” I roll my eyes and he smirks. “She still keeping you on a leash?”

 I only have to nod for him to understand. He winces. “Ouch.” And then he’s plucking my phone out of my pocket and turning it off, handing it back to me. “Just enjoy the gig, okay?” he sends me a reassuring smile- one of his famous Lex- ‘it’s going to be okay’ smile’s. I’d only known him a year, but there was a connection I shared with him and Monty. They were more than band mates.

 “Thanks.” I smile back at him, though my lips morph into a frown when I catch sigh of the sky outside. It’s almost black. The rain seemed to have gotten worse- pattering on the windows, sliding down the sill. I press my face against the glass. I can just about make out the outline of the motorway. I glimpse the time on the clock on the dashboard. “How far are we from the gig?” I ask the taxi driver.

 Monty stops drumming and seems to notice the storm. “Shit.” He glances at me and Lex, his expression wary. Then he shrugs and smirks. “More people to entertain?” then he’s back to drumming. Though this time he uses dashboard as his makeshift drums.

  _Cick, click, click_ go Monty’s sticks and he’s a few taps into the opening of _Take on me_ before the driver gives him an infuriated look. “Please could you not do that?” the driver’s gruff voice stops him, and he rests his sticks in his lap and pouts like a child being told off.

Lex rolls his eyes for what must have been the hundredth time that night and wraps his arms around the back of my seat, leaning into the leather. “So, I’ve been looking at the track-list for tonight and do you mind singing main vocals for Pieces of You?” 

Something sparks inside me and I can’t help smiling. “Really?” I grin at him. “Are you kidding?” and he only winks. “Dan, you can sing, I’ve heard you.” I’m suddenly filled with a sense of…refulgence. I’m wanted for something. The universe _wanted_ me. I’ve always questioned my place on this earth, constantly terrified of being plucked from my life into never-ending darkness. But not now. Now I can live my life knowing I’m in a band, that I’m going to go to university and study music. One day- I’ll be known for something. People, strangers will say my name and it will mean something. 

“Shit!” the taxi driver tears me from my silent excitement. Lex twists around in his seat. “What’s up mate?” though it’s clear as soon as the familiar hum of the engine that had been in my ears for nearly two hours, falls to a mechanical moan- before dying out completely. The taxi rolls to a stop, and Monty sits up in his seat, stands of his black hair covering his eyes. “What’s going on?”

 “We’ve broken down.” The taxi driver grumbles, before grabbing his radio which lay on the dashboard and thumbed the button. Lex sends me a panicked look and I glance at the time.

 The gig started at seven, and it’s just got twenty to. The taxi driver tells us it’ll be at least an hour before a replacement car gets sent- and we don’t have that time. “Sorry mate,” Lex hands the driver the fare, despite us not actually getting there. I consider mentioning this, but I just get out of the car instead. I drag my bag and guitar out of the boot and look around, shading my eyes against the shower of raindrops. Monty and Lex recover their bags and the three of us are left standing in the middle of the road, looking like total idiots. “We can hitchhike?” Lex yells, though his voice gets whipped away by the wind which blows into me, nearly sending me flying.

 “There!” Monty points to a sign. “Astral Main centre!” he reads out, pointing with his drumsticks back down the long stretch of road. “We can walk it?”

 I spy a cluster of trees by the road, spotting another sign. “Astral Park.” I point and smile. “We can shortcut it through there!” there’s no other real choice. The road seems desolate of cars so that’s a no to Lex’s brilliant idea. I sling my guitar strap over my shoulder and make a run for it across the road, climbing over the low fence separating the woods from the road. “Are you sure about this?” Lex keeps close to me as I venture into the tree’s. It’s pitch black and I can barely see a thing. I tread on something which crunches sickeningly and swallow hard. “Yeah, we’ll be there before we know it.”

 Ten minutes later and I have scratches all over my face from being whipped in the face by a dozen branches, and my lip is bleeding. If it couldn’t get any worse, my guitar is soaking wet. Lex is in front, muttering to himself- no doubt forcing himself to be optimistic. “It’s nearly ten to,” Monty helpfully reminds me, coming to walk beside me. The three of us squelch through wet mud and broken branches for five minutes more, before Lex twists around and gets in my face. “Brilliant idea, Dan!” he hisses. “I’m fucking filthy, Monty stinks of shit, and we’re going to miss the gig!” he growls.

“Hey!” Monty yells defensively. “I didn’t see the dog shit!”

 I stumble slightly, tripping over a fallen branch. I grit my teeth. “We’ll get there.” I say, letting my gaze wander around the forest. My eyes had adjusted thank god. I duck under a bush and run forward, my irritated scowl becoming a grin. “There!” I spy a light just in the distance, and Monty pushes in front of me. “Is that a cabin?” his tone flickers with wariness but I shake it off. “We can ask to use the phone!”

 I rush ahead, Lex catching up with me. “What time do they want us there again?” he’s out of breath. I groan when my guitar bashes against my back. “Uh, I think the latest is five past?”

 “Right, we ask to use the phone, clean up a bit- I have some spare clothes in my bag, and then we leg it to the concert.” Lex sounds hopeful, and I nod at him in the darkness, smiling.

 We reach the cabin, the three of us breathing heavily as I raise my hand and knock on the mahogany door. Monty stands beside me, his breath practically in my ear. “Dan, I don’t like this.”

 I turn to him. The rain has stopped thank god. I catch a single droplet dropping off the roof of the cabin. The house itself looks pretty homey- there’s a golden light I can just about spy, in the hallway. I look down and smile. “Aw, they’ve got a little gnome.” I kick it slightly and it rattles, nearly falling off balance. “Shit.” I bend down to straighten it before the door creaks open followed by a voice.

 “Can I help you?” I shoot back up, fashioning a grin. “It- it was already knocked over.” Is all I can spit out in my panic. But the owner of the cabin ignores me.

 Only to meet dark steely blue eyes. The man standing on the threshold looks around forty years old- with a greying beard and no hair. He has muscles bigger than my future. “Hi!” Lex introduces us as The Evers, a band late for a concert and asks politely if we can use his phone to ring the venue. Monty stays weirdly quiet beside me.

 The man seems to take in the three of us- three young guys covered in dirt standing on his doorstep. One of them hoarding a guitar over back, the other grinning, like a fucking mannequin, and the youngest one, looking rather green. I know in his shoes I wouldn’t let us in. We look like a knock off One Direction with our boy-band looks. “It’ll get us more fans!” Lex had insisted.

 But the man’s lips stretched into a smile, morphing into a grin. Warning signs started to flash in my head, and Monty ever so slightly nudges me. But I ignore him and every fibre in my body. “Oh, uh, sure.” The man itches the invisible hair on his head and opens the door wider, welcoming us. “There’s a phone in the hall.” He mutters, his gaze never seems to leave Monty. Lex nods, seemingly oblivious to my second-thoughts. I hover in the doorway. “Okay cool, thank you so much!” he nods at the man, and then walks into the cabin, still with that damn permanent grin etched into his expression.

 “Dude, relax.” I mutter to Monty, but I keep a hold of his arm, as I follow Lex inside, looking around and smiling politely at the deer head mounted onto the wall in the living room. “Nice place!” I nod at the man who stands motionless behind us. There only seems to be a living room and kitchen. I stand with Monty in the hallway. “I’ll go get you the phone.” The man announces, before stalking off into another room. Once he’s gone, Monty curses loudly. “I want to go.” He says, and there’s a childlike murmur to his tone. “Please Dan,” he grabs my hand. “Can we just please go?!”

Lex folds his arms. “Monty, chill.” He rolls his eyes with an amused smirk. “We’re just going to use his phone and inform the venue we’re going to be late.” I nod, despite my worsening feeling.

“But…” Monty struggles. His gaze is on the mounted deer head on the wall, and I shake my head, grabbing his hand. Oh man, it’s shaking. I squeeze it reassuringly. “Calm down, Monts.”

 “You’ll have to come and use the phone in here.” The man calls from inside one of the mysterious rooms, and Lex, after casting an unsure glance at me. I nod. “Uh, okay!” he smiles at me and Monty, giving us a thumbs up. “You two look dead inside,” he laughs. “Smile!” I send him the finger, the ghost of a smile on my lips. But Monty doesn’t move- his eyes still on the mounted deer head.

 I turn to him, frowning. “Nothing’s going to happen!” I hiss, reaching out and shaking his shoulders playfully. But Monty doesn’t answer. Instead he makes his way across the small living room, zig-zagging around the coffee table and couch. I follow, taking in the abused paintwork and sickly yellow wallpaper. “It’s not fake.” Monty’s whimper makes me twist around, my heart jumping into my throat as his yell suddenly pierced my ears. I make it over to him, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket. “What the hell are you doing?!” I hiss. He doesn’t answer, only raises a shaking finger, pointing to the deer head.

 I let out a hiss of irritation. “It’s a fucking deer head!” I gesture to it wildly, but when I do actually turn to it and _really_ look- something icy slivers down my spine. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m reaching forward and touching the fur of the poor thing. I flinch when I feel something wet and sticky and my fingers come back bright red. My whimper echoes Monty’s cry as the deer head comes loose from the wall, seemingly throwing itself at me. I back away, Monty grabbing me and yanking me out of the way as it crashes on the carpet with a sickly and wet _thwap._ I stare at it for a few seconds- the deer head on the carpet. But it looked…wrong. “Dan!” Monty hisses, but I can’t help it. I inch forward, kicking it with my shoe. The deer head rolls over with an audible _shh_ , but there’s something…

 “Dan, don’t!” Monty grabs for my arm, but I pull away, curious. My heart flutters in my chest, my stomach rolling around- every single part of me telling me not to look closer.

 But I do- of course I do. And when I look closer, shoving the deer-head with my foot once more, I manage to dislodge something. Something pearly white juts out from the fur and I cry out, stumbling back into Monty’s arms when I find myself staring into dark crevices of a skull. I start to yell, and then scream Lex’s name. I try and throw up but the bile lodges in my throat and I can’t get the image out of my head. The skull- hidden in a deer-head. A human skull. Oh god, a human skull.

 “We’re going.” Is all I can get out through dry lips. I grab a sobbing Monty and drag him back into the hallway. “Lex!” I yell, my voice hoarse. The door is right there. I can run towards it- I can make a run for it with Monty and not look back.

 “Lex!” I cry again, this time my voice breaks. “Stay here, you hear me? Stay fucking here!” I yell at Monty, but he’s at my side, practically glued to it. “There’s a dead person…oh god, Dan, a dead- a dead…” his mumble of gibberish is in my ear as I slowly make my way down the hallway, my breath short. I start to sob, saying Lex’s name repeatedly. “Lex, where are you?!” I look around for something to defend myself with, momentarily letting go of Monty’s hand.

 “Dan!” I twist around at my friend’s voice, freezing in mid stride. The man stood there, a Cheshire cat spread across his face. His arms are wrapped around Monty, his sweaty hands gagging my friend’s screams. His other hand clutches a kitchen knife, and its blade inches from a squirming Monty’s throat. I hold my hands up automatically, in surrender. “Please.” I say, my voice squeaking. Monty’s eyes are bright and fearful. Though he doesn’t say anything. “Please just let him go.” I say.

 I want to lunge forwards, but my feet are glued to the floor. The man sends me a grin full of pearly white teeth, like the skull in his living room. “Can’t do that lad.” His cold gaze never leaves me as he slides the knife across my friend’s throat. I cry out, but no sound comes out. I feel my knees banging on the floor as I fall onto my hands and knees, catching Monty as he slips out of the man’s grip. His eyes are unfocused as he lays still in my lip, gurgling. _So much blood_. I start to cry, no, sob, pressing my hands to his throat. But it’s no use. Monty tries to say something, his lips moving desperately as the light in his eyes starts to die away. I’m aware I’m screaming and crying, but I don’t notice my arms being wrenched behind me and the feel of rope being wrapped around my wrists. “No!” I screech when the man pulls me into his arms, away from Monty, away from my best friend. But he’s dead. His body lays limp on the floor. I kick and scream against the man, but he only laughs.

 “I’ll give you a head start.” He says, his rancid breath in my ear. But I drown out his words, screaming for Monty, for Lex, for the mother who I had told not to worry about me.

 “No!” I try and squirm out of his grasp as he drags me to the door of his cabin, yanking me outside. The cool wind whips against my cheeks and I try and scream for help, but the man’s hand is already smashed against my lips. “Run.” He says, before pushing me forwards. I stumble for my footing, feeling my hands held restricted behind my back. “RUN!” the man roars.

 I stumble forwards into the trees, sobbing and screaming for help. I can hear footsteps behind me. Heavy boots crunching on branches and dirt. I force my legs to run, but they won’t comply. I only fall forwards, smashing my face against the forest floor. Then a laugh from above me, and arms gripping me and twisting me around so I was staring right into the eyes of a murderer.

“You didn’t run fast enough.” He says, before grabbing my hair, wrenching it forwards and-

 *

 “Stop.” I say, blinking rapidly when the illusion fades. “Stop!” I sob, wiping trickling tears from my cheeks. My entire body is shaking, my breath coming out in rapid puffs. I stumble backwards then, crashing into the damp walls of the cave- and the reality sets in. I’m back in the cave.

 “I’m sorry.” His voice echoes in the cave once more. “I told you it wasn’t pleasant.” Though I ignore him, Dan’s entire life, his hopes and dreams, his fantasy’s- his friends and family- it was all etched into my memory forever. “The Evers.” Is all I can manage, remembering the news report, and then remembering the story that had topped news headlines for over a month last year.

 “You’re them?” I swallow bile building in my throat. “You…and…the others…you were them?”

 “Yeah.” His voice is melancholic- almost thoughtful. I fiddle with the radio, pressing buttons and twisting dials. “How do I…” I wipe my eyes again. The image of the man, who had murdered Dan and his band, was stuck in my head. Cold, blue, icy eyes staring with no remorse, no mercy. The radio crackles then, and a loud screeching noise makes me jump. Though I continue playing around it with shaking hands. “How do I stop it?!” I demand to the darkness.

 There’s no answer. Though there is a sudden high pitched beep which nearly makes me drop the damn thing. “You have to tell me how to stop it!”

 There’s a small pause, before his voice comes out silky and smooth- almost calm. “Have you ever heard of the Butterlfy effect?” I nod and he chuckles. “Great film. Anyway, if you were to…theoretically save me from impending death, it changes _everything_.” He said. “You get that?”

 I nod, though all I’m thinking of is the knife- the knife across Monty’s throat, and the blood pooling on the carpet. Lex’s mischievous grin as he sent Dan the kind of smile that would calm a screaming child. “Yes, yes, I don’t care!” I yell. I twist the radio’s dials and thump the buttons.

 Dan’s murmur is in my ears. “You could rip a hole in time.” His tone is teasing, as if he’s challenging me. It hits me then that Dan did this on purpose. He _wants_ to be saved.

 “0.78 on the radio.” He says softly, then; “It can only happen once a year,” when I crank the radio to the right station, I smell wet grass and damp wood. Then I can hear the wind, the rain pattering angst the trees. “You can either move on in here, or wait for a miracle.” Dan’s voice is in my ear again. 

“The others moved on.” His voice cracks. “I waited for you.”

*

And then he’s gone, his voice, his presence- everything. I open my eyes and am hit by a slash of wind and wind blowing my hair in my face. It takes me a few seconds to gather myself but once I do, I’m running blindly through trees, searching for a light- searching for a cabin.

 “HELP!” a sudden screech rings out through the trees. It echoes in the wind, chilling me to the bone. Then the sound of desperate sobbing. Before I know what I’m doing I’m consciously running towards the screams and sobbing. And then a figure- a tall, muscular figure thumping through the trees. As I get closer, I recognize small things what I saw in Dan’s vision. Golden earrings, blood stained vest and of course- a bald head. I crouch in the tree’s, watching as he slowly and inevitably nears Dan, who is catch as a shadow, a boy with his hands restricted behind his back, running for his life.

 I inch towards the man at a pace. I have no ways of defending myself- but I must stop it. I get as close as I can, just as the man is tackling Dan to the ground, and my heart stops when I see his face as he rolls around in the dirt, eyes bright and full of life- not closed forever like under the ocean, where the man had presumably dumped his body. I stand, shaking, and before I can regret it, yell at the top of my voice. The wind attacks my hair, blowing it in my face. “Get away from him!”

 Dan freezes in the dirt, harrowed eyes finding me. Tears streamed down his face but with the man distracted, he was able to crawl across the dirt, somehow finding his feet and stumbling away into the darkness. I’m left with the man, who starts to close in on me. He swings the same kitchen knife in his hands that killed Monty. I curse, turn around and start to run.

 I’m stumbling, too scared to look back. Someone is suddenly grabbing me, dragging me out of the psycho’s path. “What are you doing?!” icy arms are suddenly wrapping around my neck and a head is burying in my neck as he sobs into my chest. “I couldn’t save them…I couldn’t…oh god thank you so much…” his voice is fading, and when try and reassure him, he’s blinked out of existence.

 “Dan?” I shout into the wind, but even the wind is suddenly no more. The rain is no longer lashing across my face. It takes me a few seconds, but I’m no longer shouting his name in a forest, I’m yelling it into a bright blue sky, contrasting with grey sand. “What?” a voice says next to me, and I turn to stare at him. Dan. The boy I had saved from a terrible fate. It takes a few seconds to realize our hands are linked, and when he looks at me, he’s…older. At least in his twenty’s. “Are you spacing out again, you spoon?” he giggles, nudging me playfully. I can only stare. This Dan- he’s the boy I saw in the ocean, except this time his eyes are wide with life, his lips, not blue against the waves, but a pale pink- curling into a smirk. “Hey, stop staring!” he laughs. I feel my heart start to quicken when I realise he’s wearing the same leather jacket- the same clothes from the other world where he died.

 He looks exactly the same as when he died. His chocolate brown hair swept into a side-fringe, as if he was still in his band.

 “I think this is a perfect place.” Dan announces, and I frown in confusion. “What..?” I catch something dangling against his chest, then. A kind of- tag? A lanyard the teachers at school wear. But this one was different. It was bright red. I grab at my own then, as if bounced against my chest.

  **“PHIL LESTER**

**AGE: 26**

**BBC BROADCASTING HOUSE**

**RADIO ONE.**

 “Perfect place?” I question Dan’s earlier statement, and then look around, noticing we were on Astral beach- a bunch of others with the BBC lanyards walking around with camera equipment.

 Dan rolls his eyes. “Were you up all night editing video’s again?” he sighs. “Okay, we’re on earth for one,” he smirks. “Currently with the Radio one gang looking for a venue for the next Big Weekend.”

 “Editing video’s…?” I start, and this time Dan looks wary. “Phil, are you okay?”

 “Hey!” a voice, unfamiliar to me. To this whole new life.  A man jogs across the beach, and Dan turns and smiles. “We were working, I swear.” He winks at me, and I can only put on a laugh. Both of them, Dan, and the man with short brown hair- before the guy shakes his head with a smirk. “Right, I believe you,” he says. Then, “Orders are to check out Astral Park,” the man frowns at me then. “You okay, Phil? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

 I nod my head, but can’t help the feeling in my gut. Astral Woods. Where the cabin was, where Dan and The Evers were killed.

 In this universe- did Monty and Lex still exist? What about my friends, my life?

 But I can’t think of any of that right now. Instead, I stare at Dan. Alive, beautiful Dan, the boy I had saved- and he was living his life.

 And then the gunshots sounded, sending this new universe flying under my feet

**Author's Note:**

> Leave Kudos if you liked! :3 that way I'll know if you want a second chapter :)


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